


I Own You, You Own Me

by Faulty_Fics



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Arena fights, Blood and light Gore, F/M, Galra Keith (Voltron), M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, prisoner lance, the paladins will appear much later, what are tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 13:06:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8373322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faulty_Fics/pseuds/Faulty_Fics
Summary: (Indefinite Hiatus)Keith is a low ranked soldier, held back by his half-blood status and barely getting by. And that was before he picked up a ragged, no-hope, fallen gladiator by the name of Lance. Claiming the human was probably his worse idea yet but still, he can't help but think this will lead to something bigger.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So my first voltron work and I never learn. I always tell myself to start with a one shot... but nope. Anyway, here it is and sorry for any error as it's unbetaed.

“Today is his last day. He fell in battle again and no one wants to sponsor a loser. Take him to the cells for disposal, immediate-“

 

“Wait! Wait!... I… I’ll take him…”

Keith sighed as he stared at the lanky boy, a human was his species if he remembered, curled up asleep in his makeshift cell. Bandages covered his arms, chest, and neck. What had possessed him to take in the wounded gladiator he didn’t know. Before he knew it he had been yelling at the boy’s previous owner, waving the little savings he had managed to gain working as a half-breed soldier. The galra had teased him before ultimately just having the wounded boy pushed into his arms.

 

“Just take the trash, you match,”

 

A growl rose from his throat just at the thought, making him surge to his feet and paced his room. He didn’t have enough rank or money to get a proper cell or even treatment for the gladiator. Instead the human was behind thrown together scrap metal with simple bandages over his wounds. Looking over again he could already see the red beginning to stain the cloth wrapped around his chest. He would need to change them soon.

 

Somewhat glad for the distraction of a menial task, he grabbed the old shirt he’d been tearing up to make more clean strips. He let his claws slide through the fabric, spacing out as he gathered a mass big enough for his task of rewrapping the human’s wounds. It was almost a disappointment when he finally had enough. Especially since it meant getting so close to the human again, moving the metal aside and giving him practically free roam of the room… or at least that would be true if he woke up.

 

So far the injured gladiator had remained still for the most part. Just laying there and slowly bleeding as his body tried its best to heal up. Keith was sure he’d get up eventually, he’d seen this gladiator take worse and show up in the arena the next week. Then again that had been with proper care.

 

Shoving the idea away, Keith shifted aside some of the scrap and slowly moved closer to the human. “Just going to fix you up,” he muttered softly, more for his own benefit. Making use of his claws he cut and peeled away the old cloth, nose wrinkling a bit at the sharp irony scent of blood. Should the bleeding hav stopped yet? Honestly he had no idea, but then again, what would he lose if the human did die? It wasn’t like he had paid for the fighter, hell he hadn’t even asked for his name and yet… it didn’t sit right with him. 

 

It was probably because getting the human to win fights for him could me money and recognition. Yeah, that was it. Completely.  
Definitely hadn’t got attached watching the human’s odd grace in the arena or cheeky fake smiles when he won a match. This feeling was totally just worry over losing an income source.

 

His brain kept running through excuses as he dabbed away some blood with a wet cloth, completely missing the slight change in the human’s breathing. Until the boy suddenly stiffened and sprang back that is, eyes wide as he stared down Keith. “H-hey cal-”

 

“Who are you! Where am I?! This isn’t my cell this…” Suddenly the gladiators face fell and Keith was about to start speaking, at least remind the human he was wounded, but a fierce sort of determination came over his face that made Keith tense.

 

“If you think... you can get rid of me that easy… I’m not dying here” The way the gladiator practically growled had Keith’s ears flicking back. Suddenly he was incredibly happy the human was wounded, healed he would have been terrifying.

 

Trying to show peace, Keith slowly raised the wet rag while scooting back a little. Taking a quick breath he tried to force enough authority in his voice to get the human to listen and yield. “I’m your new owner. You were given to me instead of being disposed of, a second chance you know. So calm down, even if I was to get rid of you, you’re too hurt to fight off any attacks. It’s pointless to struggle like this.” He fixed the human with a hard look, forcing any remaining fear out of his posture. Showing weakness to a slave, especially a fighter, was shameful and dangerous. There were far too many stories of owners who made one slip and were found with throats slit from a slave.

 

“Now I need to finish fixing your wounds or you really will die.” Keith pushed on, pointing to the injuries with the bloodied cloth. It was nerve racking to watch the gladiator consider him, looking at the cuts and back at the galra a few times before begrudgingly sticking out his arm.

 

“Only because I can’t die here”

 

Keith blinked at the arm offered to him, hesitating a moment before starting and hurrying to finish patching up the human’s arms and such. He had expected more of a fight but he wouldn’t complain that’s for sure. Instead he simply wrapped the fabric around each cut, listening to the other boy’s reactions to tell if they were too tight or not. “There, now rest. I’ll get you something to eat.” He pushed himself off the ground, starting to back off when he noticed the gladiator’s stricken expression. “What…?”

 

The human just frowned again is response, expression returning to closed as he shrugged and turned away. Keith bit back a growl at the action and just rearranged the makeshift cage. The first thing he was doing if he got money from fights was buy and actual pen for the damn stubborn thing. “Fine, have it your way.” he grumbled, turning and leaving his room to head to the giant ship’s kitchens.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally a second chapter! One day I'll write regularly... one day. Either way, I'd like to thank my fabulous beta and all the readers.

It smelled like blood and the cries in the stands were deafening. The prisoner matches were over, the winners given owners, the losers dead, and it was finally time for the sponsored fights to begin.

Meaning it was time for Lance to get ready.

Keith had the gladiator for about a month and it was probably the worst and most annoying month of his life. At first the human had simply ignored him, giving short answers and only interacting when Keith forced him to check recovery progress. That had only lasted about a week though, and no matter how infuriating he found it to be ignored it was apparently even worse to have the damn thing give you his attention willingly. Keith let his mind wander as he leaned against the rail around the arena, thoughts slipping to the past weeks.

_“So you really aren’t going to kill me…?”_

_The question was soft and it took Keith a moment to register it, pausing to look up from the human’s healing arm._

_“Why?”_

_That was a good question. “Because if you win for me, I can make money. Which I need” He huffed and went back to examining the other wounds when the human gave what looked like a content nod._

_“Okay, but why be so nice? You’re always… gentle. And feed me better than the other dude who probably had way more money”_

_“Hurting you would be counter productive if you’re going to fight and this is only temporary. So your strength comes back faster.” The deflated look that passed over the human’s face sent a quick stab of guilt through Keith and he tried to ignore the other’s sudden return to silence. Not another word was spoken until Keith moved away, done with his work. As he replaced the makeshift cage the human looked up at him._

_“What’s your name?”_

_The question caught Keith off guard and he could only tilt his head, mumbling an eloquent “huh?”_

_“Name, what to call you. I don’t plan on dying so that means we’ll be stuck together for a while until I can get out right? So unless you want me calling you ‘mullet’ or something tell me your name. I’m Lance by the way, so stop calling me ‘hey human’”_

_“Keith” The name was out of his mouth before he even registered he was speaking, the exchange almost casual. Which definitely had to change before it was a habit. “But shouldn’t a slave just call the owner sir,” he forced a soft growl into his voice resulting in a slight flinch from the Lance human and another faint stab of guilt in his gut. “...at least in public.” The huma- Lance, Lance perked up slightly at the addition and_ why the hell did that make Keith feel relieved. _“And what in the name of the Emperor is a ‘mullet’”_

_The immediate shit eating grin sent a wave of regret over Keith._

Now Lance was strutting into the arena, posture confident despite the fear flickering in his eyes. His eyes landed on Keith for a moment and he gave a little nod before flipping a small gun in his hands. The weapon couldn’t shoot well enough for a clean kill, how would that make for a fun fight?, and yet the gladiator still choose it despite all of Keith’s warnings.

_“You gave me the choice and this is it. What do you care anyway?”_ had been the final response to a long string of points against the tiny thing. Like the basic concept of being able to block a damn hit or actually deal a quick finisher.

But no, Lance was a’ great shot’ and could ‘dodge like a champ’ no matter what his past said about the latter at the very least. No wonder the fighter never had the option to choose his own weapon before, his judgement sucked and the dream of payoffs was nice while it lasted.

The cheers rose steadily as Lance walked further into the arena before noise practically exploded from the stands in response to the door across from the fighter beginning to lift up. Keith watch as the rival entered, a large beast so altered by druids it couldn’t be related to anything Keith ever knew existed. It stood at double the fighters height while still on all fours, skin a disgusting blotched grey, crack, and thick. Tusks curled up out of it’s mouth and it’s front paws had four claws, each about the length of Lance’s arm.

It was to be a lower stake fight, just a beat and mediocre fighter, and yet Keith couldn’t help but start to feel worried. Lance had never lost to a non-sentient fighter before but he had and actual weapon then and better healthcare. Nevermind the human’s cocky stride toward the beast, Keith was already muttering soft prayers by the time Lance’s fired his first round of shots.

Bolts of light flashed from the small pistol, doing little more than scorch the beast’s thick hide and enrage it. The thing lunged forward, undaunted by the blasts in a desire to crush the pest shooting it. Paws slammed to the ground and Lance dropped into a roll at the last minute making Keith grip the rail until his knuckles were white. Another slash and the crowd swelled with noise at watching the creature get even closer to ending the fight. It seemed so one sided, the little blasts barley adding up while Lance seemed to be taking less shots for some reason. _And was the idiot smiling?!_

The next swipe of claws actual caught Lance, sending the thin human across the ground much to the crowds approval. The sound was deafening as creature followed, slamming down its claws and snapping after Lance as he scrambled away, not even taking shots anymore. Keith was grateful for the noise covering his shout as a huge paw crashed down on Lance’s arm to pin the human. He turned as it opened it’s mouth to snap down, waiting for the screech of the crowd at the sight of blood, blood from his fighter, from Lance.

What he didn’t expect was the silence.

A faint series of rapid shots between cheers and then the crowd went dead. Keith took his time in turning back to the arena, ears shoving forward at the scene down in the fighting yard. The huge thing had collapsed, mouth still open and half crushing the fighter. It was dead, eyes still and glassy with blood starting to pool out of its mouth from the blast wounds. Then it dawned on Keith. Lance had probably planned this to some extent after noticing the hide wouldn’t give to his attacks. Though by the pain on his face Keith was pretty damn sure getting his arm pinned and clawed up hadn’t been in the plan.

As the crowd finally came back to life Keith eased his death grip on the rail, shoving past the rest of the standing crowd and ignoring any complaints directed at him. All he was focused on was to get to the gladiator entrance and retrieve his human. The moment he was out of the throng of galra he was sprinting down to the arena gates. He flashed his ID, growling in impatience as it was scanned to prove him an owner and darting past the guard the moment it cleared. It was quieter here, separated from the roaring crowd by a thick wall, and yet the lull in sound did nothing to ease his nerves. He was pacing by the time the gate opened to let through a guard droid practically dragging an exhausted and disheveled Lance.

“Lance!” The young human looked up at his name and smiled. Keith forced himself to simply walk over, putting the mandatory cuffs around the fighters wrists and trying not to focus on the angry bruises cover the arm that had been pinned. It looked like it might be broken…

“I won, looks like you’re stuck with me” Lance hummed softly, watching the bindings lock in place and trying in vain to hold back a wince.

“But look at your arm! I told you not to use that gun, who cares if you shoot perfect. Those guns are worthless,” Keith growled, watching as Lance’s expression fell and the human looked away. He was vaguely aware of the looks he was receiving from the guards and owners sharing the space.“Lucky you’re arm is hurt and I need the money or you’d be punished for this,” he snapped a bit too loud. Surely the others found it odd he would only speak to a rebellious fighter, no matter how slight the transgression. This would be a good excuse however; never mind the look it heartbreak on Lance’s face.

A tap on his shoulder made the young galra jump, “About money… your winnings. I’m here to deliver them.” The automated voice came from a bot, the thing holding a scanner and seeming rather impatient for a robot. “...oh… yeah! Um,” Keith dug out his ID once more and watched as the bot transferred the funds to the card , all the while keeping a free hand on Lance’s cuffs and ignoring the damned hurt looks Lance kept giving him. Really. This was not good for his reputation.

“And you may leave your fighter in a cell here now that you have sufficient funds. I will take him now.” The bot shooed away Keith’s hand and grabbed hold of his human before the galra could even react.

“Wai-”

“Thank you for your contribution to this arena. You will be messaged about the next fight.”


End file.
